More Than Enough
by gmrose
Summary: Something in her voice, her tone felt…sunny. Positive. Like she didn't have a single cloud in her own personal sky. And then. And then she laughed at some joke she made about her brother and the sound of it felt like music and suddenly his whole world seemed too big, too full, too bright for his own eyes. What did she manage to do to his heart in just a few quick and easy minutes?
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

 _ **Summer 2005**_

There was a loud _B-A-N-G_ as the pretty little front door of the gorgeous little blue house on the corner of the quiet little street slammed shut. A young boy with sandy brown hair flew down the steps, his cheeks glittering in the sunlight due to what could only be tears. With one hand he pulled a large red rolling book bag behind him, it clattered behind him as he made his way down, and he held tight to an old leather jacket with the other.

He charged on toward his front gate, only wanting to get away from it all. From that house and the image and all the noise and the secrets.

He just wanted to get _away_.

Was that even possible?

The thought of not being able to escape this hell sent a jolt of anger through him. He ran his arm across his eyes roughly, wiping away the wetness that was now starting to affect his vision. _"Stupid tears."_ He thought to himself, but it was no use. Fresh beads formed once more in the corner of his eyes and sped down his cheeks, betraying him.

He pushed the gate open wide and without another look back at his house, made a sharp turn towards the corner, not even thinking to watch where he was going.

And he crashed right into it.

No. It wasn't an _it_. It was a _person_.

And it wasn't _just_ a person.

It was a _girl_.

The boy, now sitting flat on the floor, blinked up at the girl through watery eyes, and he felt his face grow hot. He wasn't crying because he fell down. He hoped the girl knew that. He was crying because of…other things.

The girl however, looked over at him with very dry eyes. She sat flat on the floor as well and the bicycle she was riding lay just a little ways away from them. She folded her arms and glared at him.

"Well?" she asked, and the boy started.

"Um. Well, what?" He pushed himself up from where he was sitting. Dust his pants off. Shook out his jacket.

"You're _supposed_ to say you're sorry." She said matter-of-factly. She stood up this time as well and immediately put her hands on her hips. "You knocked me over!" she stomped her foot.

The boy didn't respond. The girl frowned.

Then, he watched as her eyes traveled from his tearstained face to his rolling backpack, to his jacket, and right back to his probably already bloodshot eyes.

Her eyes narrowed. "Where are you going?" she asked.

The boy suddenly grew very defensive. He turned on his heel and tugged on the book bag, walking in the direction he was originally heading.

He didn't have to answer to her. Who did she think she was? His mother? _"Ha."_ He thought. _"Joke's on her. There was probably no one in the world that wished for_ that _."_

He walked in silence for a minute or so, before he heard the girl's voice from behind him, shouting.

"Hey!" she yelled, and after he didn't stop or turn around, "Hey, I'm _talking_ to you!" That didn't make a difference. He actually walked a bit faster. Who the hell was this girl? He was pretty positive he'd never seen her before. He racked his brain for an image of where he might have spotted her. Around town? The movies? At school? Breadstix? None of them wrung a bell.

Eventually, to his annoyance, she caught up with him when he had to stop at another corner. She was standing next to her bicycle now and she was breathing heavy, but somehow that didn't seem to stop her from asking her questions.

"Are you running away?" _Damn, she's straight to the point._

"So what if I am?" he asked without looking at her. He was already annoyed that she caught up to him, and here he was actually responding to her.

The girl seemed to think for a moment, and when the light in front of them indicated that it was safe to cross the street, she walked with him to the other side. But as soon as they step foot on the sidewalk, the girl sped up and rounded on him. She blocked his path with her body and her bike and stared at him with a big smile.

The boy stopped short, not expecting such a quick movement, and frowned slightly.

"Listen, can you-"

"I'm Mercedes!" she said, brightly, and she stuck out her hand. The boy glanced down at it suspiciously, which only made her temper flare. "Excuse you. I don't bite. And if I remember right _you're_ the one that almost sent _me_ to the hospital, so _I_ should be looking at _you_ like you have a million teeth. Not the other way around." She paused and then repeated herself. "I'm Mercedes. What's your name?"

"Uh. Sam? I'm Sam."

"Nice to meet you Sam." She said. Mercedes still had her hand out, and Sam figured the best thing to do was to just take it. She clearly was not about to leave him alone until he did so.

"Yeah. Uh, you too…"

"Wanna come to my house and play video games? My brother has a Playstation, but he lets me play sometimes."

"Um…"

Before he could give a straight answer or even think about speaking, Mercedes snaked her arm through Sam's and tugged him back in the opposite direction. Back towards that building. Back towards _home_.

"Or we could play board games. I'm a _beast_ at Monopoly, I promise you. Or Uno? Maybe?"

She chattered on with Sam pulled tight next to her until they were almost back to where they started, where they first crashed into each other. Sam could feel his heart in his throat, and the closer they got to that little blue house the more sick he felt. He didn't understand why he didn't just pull away from her, just slip out from her arm and run back to where he was going. But something kept his feet walking.

Something in her voice, her tone felt…sunny. Positive. Like she didn't have a single cloud in her own personal sky. She clearly talked too much for her own good, but he found that her talking distracted him. Gave him something to focus on.

And _then_. And then she laughed at some joke she made about her brother and the sound of it felt like music and suddenly his whole world seemed too big, too full, too bright for his own eyes.

They walked right past his house. His heart eased back down in his chest. The sick feeling slowly melted away.

Sam shifted his eyes to look at her as they walked on, arms still linked, her other arm holding on to her bike. She didn't seem to notice that his gaze was on her, or maybe she did and just didn't care. He also realized that he had forgotten his rolling backpack all those blocks back, before she had turned them around. In his own free hand he gripped his jacket tightly; unsure of what was currently happening.

Who was this Mercedes? Where did she come from?

And what did she manage to do to his heart in just a few quick and easy minutes?

* * *

 **I hope this peaked your interest, even if it's a little bit :) Just a taste of the past before we begin. First chapter will be soon.**

 **Let me know what you think, it's very much appreciated!**


	2. Chapter 1

**_Chapter 1_**

 ** _(8 years later)_**

"I think you need to stop hanging around the Evans family."

Mercedes lay sprawled out on her bed, music blasting from the headphones in her ears, her Pre-Cal book open to a page that she had been staring at since she got home from school two hours ago. It just didn't seem like it was going to work out in her favor today. She had no clue what she was looking at. The numbers seemed to mix around the page and it was making her feel dizzy. It was about time she had a break anyway. She pulled out one of the earbuds and looked up at her mother, who had was standing in her doorway, arms folded, looking serious.

"What's that, mom?" she asked, sighing. Pre-cal was such a bore. She was glad for a distraction now.

"Sam Evans. I don't think you should hang around him so much anymore." When her daughter didn't respond, she took a deep breath and continued. "He's not good for you to be around, Mercedes."

Mercedes pulled out the other earbud and sat up straight. She stared at the beautiful woman in front of her. She didn't think she heard right.

 _Stop seeing Sam?_

Is that what her mom had said?

"What?" she asked. "I don't…what are you talking about?"

Her mother took another breath, like she was losing serious energy talking about this, and walked further into her room. Her bright, white pearls contrasted stunningly against her skin. Mercedes always admired how put together her mother was. She had a grace about her that Mercedes didn't seem to inherit. Where her mother was all composed and dignified, Mercedes was loud and on fire. But she didn't mind. She loved her personality. She was comfortable in it. Her mother was her own person, as was she. She had come to terms with that a long time ago.

While she wasn't always sure that her mother felt the same, that was another problem in itself.

Mrs. Jones sat down at the foot of Mercedes' bed and looked her daughter straight in the eye. "You're father and I have been talking. And…this is your _senior year_. You need to focus. You have college next year and you can't have people holding you ba-" Mercedes felt a rush of blood to her head at that very second. This was not happening right now.

" _Don't_." Mercedes slowly moved away from her, back to the head of her bed. "I don't…but, you _love_ Sam. Dad loves Sam. Freaking _Jemma_ loves Sam." Jemma was their dog, a feisty lab who they've literally had for _forever_.

"Mercedes. _Language_." Mercedes rolled her eyes. "And yes, I do…love Sam. He's a wonderful boy, in his own way. But, he's not going anywhere, sweetie. You need to see that."

"I can't believe you…Is this a joke? It's a joke, right?" Mercedes waited for an answer, but her mother just blinked at her, unmoving. A statue. Silent. She jumped up off of her bed and rounded on her mother. "I don't get it. Where is this coming from? You _know_ how hard he has it at home. Why would you even pull this on me right now?"

"Baby, I-"

"No." Mercedes backed away from her mother, took a step forward, another step back. She didn't know what to do. "No, mom. Sam needs me now more than ever. _Especially_ because I'm going away to college next year. I can't just _drop_ him now. I can't."

"Mercedes, you are no longer-"

"You can't do that! You _can't_ tell me I can't be friends with him. That I can't see him. You _can't_!" Mercedes was almost in tears. It wasn't fair. Her mother had to have seen that. Why was this even an issue?

"I'm sorry, Mercedes, but-."

It only took Mercedes a second to pull open her door and leave her mother sitting alone in her room. She didn't even wait to hear the end of that sentence. She stormed through the hallway, down the stairs, and straight outside. There was only one person she wanted to see right now.

The only person she ever really wanted to see.

* * *

"Come out, come out, wherever you are!"

Sam tiptoed quietly around the small living space, pretending to search. He already knew where they were. He _always_ knew where they were. Of course he did.

And then, as if on cue, he heard it. Giggles. Soft and angelic and as loud as anything at the same time.

The first little voice traveled out from the living room closet. _Stevie, no doubt._ The other from behind the curtain. _Definitely Stacey._

"You better hope I don't find you or I'm going to have some yummy tummies for dinner!"

Giggles again, this time louder. The curtain shook as Stacey clearly tried to keep her composure. She was failing terribly. Stevie kicked the closet door, by accident, as usual.

"Hmm…I wonder…" he mused, drawing out the time. The longer he took to find them, the more excited they became. For Stacey and Stevie, looking for a hiding spot wasn't where the fun was. It was the excitement of never knowing when their older brother was going to pop up and tickle torture them to the ground. It was their thing. Sam often wondered how long they would want to play until they grew out of it, until they figured it was actually boring and not a surprise at all. But for now, they still begged and begged him and he had no other choice but to put down his homework and oblige. Seriously, what else were big brothers for?

He took another step towards the curtain, hands outstretched and ready to grab Stacey, when there was a knock at the door. He stopped short and glanced in the direction the twins were hiding. "Pause." He said, which was their cue to come out in case he had to handle something and in turn stop looking for them. Two little heads appeared and they both grinned at Sam. "Hold on, someone is at the door." He said, pointing. They jumped out and flew towards the couch while Sam turned to open the door.

Out of all the people he probably expected to see, the old man that stood before him was not one of them. The manager from his dad's job, Charles Avery, stood on the doorstep of their motel room, his expression blank. Sam blinked a few times, unsure of what to say. This was not something that happened on a daily basis. Sam only really remembered him from the office Christmas parties his dad would take them to years back. And though it had been a while since he'd since the old man, he hadn't changed much. Same crinkly eyes. Same thinning hair on top of his head that he clearly tried to comb over to one side. Same thick mustache. Sam always thought that if he could just take some hair from his mustache and add it to his head, he would be all set.

"Mr. Avery," Sam finally managed to get out. "Is everything ok?"

"Hello Sam." Pause. "I was wondering if I can speak with your father. Is he home?"

 _What_? Sam shook his head slowly.

"Uh…no. He's…at _work_." Another pause. "Isn't he?"

Mr. Avery's eyes widened ever so slightly, but then he regained his composure. His tone suddenly became all business, if it wasn't all business before. "I'm afraid not. He hasn't been in to the office for the past week, actually. Has he been home?"

Sam didn't understand what he was hearing. "Yes, of course he has I saw him leave this morning." He was frantic now. What was going on?

The old man sighed and all of a sudden, his features seemed to change. They softened and he looked at Sam with eyes full of pity. Sam hated it.

"Look, Sam, we normally don't do house calls for our employees. If they don't show up to work without it called in, well, they're done." He was quiet for a moment. Thinking. His voice lowered a bit when he continued. "But your dad and I have worked together for the past few years and he's become like family to me. He's the best of the best there. Just…let him know that I came to check up on him. Tell him to call me as soon as he gets in." Sam nodded silently. The man gave him a slight nod in return and turned away to walk back to his car.

Sam stood in the doorway, completely unsure of what to make of this news.

* * *

Mercedes nerves seemed to calm as she walked. Her pace slowed down to a stroll and she shoved her hands in the pockets of her hoodie. It wasn't cold outside, it was still early September so it was warm enough and just a little bit breezy, expected Ohio weather. But she had nothing else to do with her hands and it was making her crazy.

She did, however, want to punch something. She wanted to scream. This was all so sudden, so out the blue weird that her mother would decide this now, after all these years of being friends with Sam.

Did this just stem out of her need to control everything? Was that it? Was she frightened that soon enough her second and last child would be off to college, and that would be it? No one else to hover over?

Mercedes loved her mother. To the moon and back and everything in between. She had gotten used to her overbearing nature over the years, she figured it was just her mothering instincts. Of course, there was a lot that Mercedes never told her parents, there was a lot she kept from them, but she loved them all the same. She was respectful and obedient and did well in school. It's just how she was raised.

However, this? This was not something that Mercedes could just _accept_. Her mother had to have known that.

It's not even the fact that Sam was always going through a lot. Forget the fact that his family was having a hard time. All those things she kept from her parents. Her thoughts, feelings, goals, and dreams. Sam knew it all. She was there for him, growing up, and in turn he was there for her as well. It wasn't _just_ a friendship they had. It was so much more than that. They understood each other. Listened. _Really_ listened.

And she wasn't about to just throw it all away.

With that in mind, she turned two more corners and walked straight up to a door that was so very familiar to her. She knocked a few times and waited.

It was only a few seconds before a breathless face appeared in the doorway. Pink cheeked and hair tousled this way and that, her friend let out a breath.

"Oh, thank _god_."

"Um…is this a bad time?"

"No no no, it's fine. I just," pause for a deep intake of air. "I just thought you were my dad. I was wondering why he was knocking." A shaky laugh. "Come on, come inside. We'll just give Blaine a few minutes to uh…get himself together." He winked at her.

Mercedes rolled her eyes, but smiled as she followed her friend inside. "Kurt. It's only 5:30. Seriously, you two _need_ a new hobby."

* * *

It was after 10:00 when his father finally walked in the apartment.

But Sam couldn't exactly call it walking.

He was in his room trying to finish up on his homework from earlier, when he heard the door slam shut. Keys were thrown onto the kitchen counter. Boots tossed into a corner. He didn't realize he was holding his breath as he listened to every move his father made.

A cough. A groan. And then feet shuffling against the carpet as Mr. Evans made his way down the tiny hallway to his bedroom.

Sam's mother was still at work, covering a co-worker's late shift at the 24 hour in-city diner. She had left the house well before they got back from school that day and left a note saying that she would be gone most of the night as well. It was lucky that his father chose this particular night to show up this late. If she had been home when his father shuffled in…

He glanced over at Stacey and Stevie, who were fast asleep, cuddled up next to each other on the bed. They usually slept with their parents, squeezed in together on the big bed in their room, but there were many nights where they would happen to fall asleep on Sam's bed. _Guess it's the couch for me tonight._ He thought. Silently, he stood up and walked over to them, made sure they were tucked in well enough. That they were warm. Safe.

He had a feeling about what was coming tonight. Later on when his mother would get home. He lived through it for years. He didn't want that to become a norm for them, like it did for him. He would do everything he could possibly do to keep those little minds happy and full of love. They still lived in an untainted world, and while some may say it's ridiculous to keep them away from reality, Sam didn't care. He just wanted them to focus on the little life that was unfolding in front of them. They would have enough time when they were older to deal with the harshness of reality.

 _Let them enjoy their innocence for now._

Sam turned to grab his phone from where it lay on his desk. He plugged it in to charge and immediately opened up Pandora to play a lullaby station. Soft, soothing music started to flow out of the phone's speakers, filling the room with a peaceful energy. He placed the phone face down on his desk again, so as to not bother them with the light. Then he grabbed an extra pillow and blanket he had stuffed inside his closet, and stepped out into the hallway.

The place was dark. The lights in the kitchen-slash-living-room were turned off. The only source of light came from the small crack in his parent's bedroom door. Sam took a moment to decide if he should go over to his father, to make sure that everything was ok. But he stood rooted to the spot. How would he even begin that conversation?

 _"_ _So you didn't go to work today, Dad? Wanna tell me where you were?"_ He couldn't ask that. As much as he took care of Stacey and Stevie, he wasn't the parent. It wasn't his job to ask that. And even though it was his father, even though Mr. Avery _did_ say to tell him he stopped by, for some reason Sam felt like it just wasn't his business.

 _But_.

But, _still_ …

His father very rarely, if ever, missed work. He knew how tight things were for them financially, and he wouldn't just miss work for a whole entire week with no reason at all. It wouldn't hurt if Sam just casually knocked and asked if he was ok. He did come home rather late, after all.

Right? Right. So, it was settled. After a quick, deep breath, Sam tossed his blanket and pillow on the couch and walked over to his parents' room.

* * *

She had wanted to go to Sam's. That was her original destination. She stormed out of her house with his face in mind, hoping that if she could just see him, talk to him, that she could work this out. Figure out a way to change her mother's mind. It didn't have to happen like that. So abrupt and sudden.

But then, halfway to the motel, her thoughts caught up to her and realization hit.

She couldn't imagine the hurt that might cross his face if she told him what her mother wanted. She couldn't do that to him. It would break her heart to have to break his heart. And she couldn't hide it from him with a smile, either. Sam always had a way of getting some kind of truth out of her. Everything was honesty with them.

No, she couldn't see him until she figured this out.

Mercedes rolled around on Kurt's bed. She grabbed a pillow and dropped it on her face, and groaned loudly.

"Ok, you've been here for _forever_ and you still haven't told me what's up. What is it? Cramps? Homework? Mommy problems?" Kurt asked, sitting at his desk and putting his feet up on his bed. Mercedes nodded and mumbled _"The last one"._ She didn't know if Kurt could see her from under the pillow, but he probably understood because he laughed. "What happened this time?"

Kurt knew how her mother was. While she wasn't as close to him as she was to Sam, he was around long enough for them to know a lot about each other. Kurt's father, probably the most reliable mechanic in town, helped her father out in a big way when his car needed lots of repairs. Mercedes was too young to really remember, but her parents always spoke highly of Burt Hummel. And they loved Kurt so it was an easy friendship for her.

Mercedes pushed the pillow away slowly and looked over at Kurt. He was watching her intently. "She wants me to stay away from Sam."

Kurt narrowed his eyes and cocked his head to the side. "What?"

"Yeah, she wants me to stay away from him. Says it's my senior year and I need to focus."

" _Ohhhh_ ," Kurt said, nodding. "So she knows about your little feelings and basically she wants your mind to be a no-boys-zone until you graduate."

"What? No. Shut up. That's not-"

"Don't try to deny it, we go through this all the time, Mercedes." He spun around in his chair to face his laptop. She could tell that he was grinning.

Mercedes resisted the urge to throw the pillow at his head.

"Kurt, I'm serious. _She's_ serious."

"I'm serious too."

"Serious about what?" Blaine walked in the room sipping from a bottle of water, and Mercedes groaned. Now there were _two_ of them. "Serious about eloping? Because we spoke about this, I'm ready if you are." Kurt waved a hand at him.

"Oh, the usual. Mercedes trying to deny that she has a thing for Sam."

"I _don't_ have-"

"Mercedes, it _is_ kind of obvious. I mean, you can tell he does as well. Have a thing for you, that is."

 _Oh, God._ "Can we _not_ go through this right now?"

"I mean, if you think about it, it's true, Kurt." Blaine said looking over at his boyfriend. "Most of the time everyone else can see that two people are meant for each other. _Except_ the two people in question." Kurt nodded in agreement.

"I'm going to murder the both of you."

"If it'll get you to admit your feelings then we're willing to sacrifice ourselves in the name of love." Kurt announced dramatically. Blaine laughed. It took all of Mercedes' strength not to push him off of his chair.

* * *

He didn't have to knock. He could already tell that it wouldn't make a difference.

Sam watched as his father sat slumped on the floor on his side of the bed, head in his hands. His shoulders were shaking and he was mumbling. Incoherent strings of words all warped together. Sam had no idea what he was saying. He couldn't pick apart a single thing.

The only thing he could pick out, was the smell. A strong, bitter smell of alcohol and God knows what else. Sam could tell from here that there were numerous stains on his father's shirt. Dirt and grime that looked like it was only a few hours old.

He was drunk. Very, clearly drunk.

Sam felt a short burst of anger.

Is that where he was all day? All week? At a bar? At some liquor store in town? Did he not realize that he had a family to support?

He was about to step in and argue his thoughts, argue that Stacey and Stevie were both home and sleeping and they could wake up any moment and see him like this…but then a single word escaped his father's mouth.

"Failure…" Sam angled an ear in the room to listen. "Such…a failure…" His father kicked out suddenly, angrily, his foot crashing into a nearby end table. The lamp that stood on top shook violently and threatened to topple over, but it eventually calmed itself and rattled back to its spot. His father broke then. He hung his head and a soft cry overtook his body, shaking him from head to toe.

He hardly ever saw his father cry. Just a few times in his life he'd actually witnessed it. Once, when Stacey and Stevie were born, he remembered his father beaming and full of the joy that came with the birth of two of his children. He remembered watching as his father planted a kiss on his mother's head, stray tears escaping his eyes. Sam always wondered if his father cried when he was born. He never asked him.

Another time was when his brother, Sam's uncle, had passed. It was car accident. It was a bad one too. Took them forever to identify the body, but when they did, it was heartbreak for the entire family. Sam watched as his father knelt and cried at the funeral. Sam had cried too. Of course he did. It was his favorite uncle.

In the present, Sam turned away from the room. He leaned against the wall and squeezed his eyes shut. There was a lump in his throat, his chest felt tight. His mind was spinning.

To see his father like that…

He pinched at the corner of his eyes, ran his hands roughly through his hair.

He had to do something. _Something had to work out_.

But, see, that was exactly the problem. It was _always_ the problem.

He couldn't do anything. Couldn't do much to make this situation better. And it just kept getting worse.

He felt helpless.

 _Powerless_.

Sam made his way slowly to his room, his heart heavier than it was before. He had only just stepped inside when his phone vibrated. He reached over to pick it up and glanced at the message on screen.

 **Mercedes: Hey. Didn't get to see you after school today. Missedya :)**

To this day, even 8 years after they first met, it still blew his mind how she seemed to show up at the times when he needed it most. He hadn't ever told her that, but he didn't have to. He was sure that she knew it. She always managed to find him when life went wrong. And it happened a _lot_. His heart felt just a little bit lighter as he walked over to the couch where he was going to be sleeping that night and sat down to respond.

 **Sam:** **Yeah, I know. Sorry. Missed you too. Had to pick up Stacey and Stevie from school.  
Sam: Wanna hang out tomorrow?**

It took a while for her to answer. He started to get nervous, as she usually always responded right away. But when her name lit up his screen again, he broke into a grin.

 **Mercedes: Of course crazy. We can go over this precal, it's driving me insane lol can't wait :)**

 **Sam: Lol sounds good. Me too. See you tomorrow, night mercy**

 **Mercedes: Goodnight captain dork ;)**

There goes that annoying nickname she had given him back when they were in elementary school. He had hated it so much back then and when he told her this, she started to use it all the time. Eventually, it just stuck for her.

He had grown used to it by now, but he'll never admit that to her. He still made a face whenever she used it in actual conversation.

They were close, the both of them. He was closer to her than anyone else in his life. But while that was true, there were still some things he didn't think he'd ever have the nerve to tell her.

And the fact that he secretly loved that unoriginal nickname was just _one_ of many.

* * *

 ** _A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed, even just a little bit._**

 ** _But really, thanks for giving my fic some of your time and I'll be posting the next chapter soon! I promise there will be more Samcedes interaction in chapters to come ;) xoxo_**


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